Unexpected
by Rose Bloodthorn
Summary: Angelyn Potter is not what they expected. She refuses to fill any mold set out for her as the GWL. She is a genius who knows much. However, she shows little emotion and cannot feel physical pain. When she goes to Hogwarts, will she at last begin to feel?
1. Chapter 1

AN:

Hello, everybody. This is my first crazy story that I will be posting on this new account. It is a bit experimental and I didn't research any further than Wikipedia. There are some unrealistic bits in here but I overlook those for other authors so I hope you will do the sam fore me. Please review, favourite, and all that jazz. Constructive criticism is appreciated, nice reviews are cherished, and flames keep the fire going. I hope that you enjoy this.

Preface

I could feel it, once. I felt the pain, I felt the hurt. I felt the longing and desire for something more... then I turned two. They were determined to beat any sense of hope out of me, they were determined to maim me as much as possible. I learned quickly to not cry out as I was not a stupid child. I had a sense of self-preservation, thank-you-very-much.

Little by little, the feeling slipped away. I never felt when he hit me, I was never affected by her harsh words. I was three when I felt pain for the last time; she had hit me in the head with a hot iron skillet and, upon reaching a state of semi-lucidity, he had beaten me for not doing my day's chores. It was that day that I shut it out, the pain. Physical, emotional, whatever. I just didn't care. I can't feel pain even if I want to, now. Trust me, I've tried.

Nobody even noticed that anything was wrong until early in second grade. I rarely spoke or showed emotion; none of those juvenile idiots were worth it to me. Anyway, I was on my way to music class, going from the first floor to the ground floor of the primary school. Lost in my own thoughts, the morbidly obese whale I was forced to call my cousin and his gang of brainwashed followers shoved past me. I was at the top of the stairs. Teetering for a split second, my balance lost the battle with gravity and I found myself careening down the stairs. It was quite fun, really, like a bumpy slide. Head over heals over head over heals. I landed with a pleasant-sounding snapping sound like a branch breaking off a tree in winter.

"Oh, I'm late for class." I shrugged. Picking myself up, I walked on to class. I saw that my foot was backwards somehow and I knew what it meant but it didn't matter. It was interesting, fascinating.

"Where on earth have you been?" the music teacher demanded as I entered the room.

"Oh, I fell down the stairs. It was fun; you should try it." I answered. The teacher's eyes shot in my direction.

"Oh my god, Miss Potter, your foot..." she trailed off.

"It's okay," I had shrugged, "I can't feel a thing. Isn't it just fascinating? The snapping sound that the bone makes?" The teacher looked rather green around the gills. This was fun.

That was the day that they bothered to realise something was wrong with me. They took me to a hospital, set my bone, ran some tests. They said I had Anti-Social Personality Disorder, I didn't care. They said I would never feel pain, I didn't care either. The hospital fascinated me, there was always so much going on.

A few months later, they sent me off to an orphanage. I hated it there; the children were just as stupid as the ones in Little Whinging; and to think that I was certain that their stupidity resulted from some chemical toxin. I guess that all kids were stupid. I breezed through my classes, bored as all hell. I hated the dumb kids and patronising adults.

At the end of second grade, they set up an aptitude test for me. They wanted to see just what I could comprehend. It was boring and elementary; I had been able to understand these concepts since shortly after my arrival at the hell called Privet Drive. I finished tests that they said were junior and senior high level, they were nearly as easy. They called me a prodigy, especially in the sciences. By my eighth birthday, they sent me off to the United States so I could attend a program for the "exceptionally gifted" like me.

I majored in forensic anthropology and genetics. They fascinated me. I also minored in criminal justice, mythology, and ancient languages. I got my PHD's at twelve but I was working even before that. While I was doing all that, I also studied what they called magic. I could remember it from when I was young, when I had parents. It was a fascinating field of study. They called it magic but, according to recent tests and discoveries, it was most likely a form of molecular manipulation and construction. I had a theory that a specific gene or chromosome was responsible for the ability to manipulate the energy around oneself.

I had taken supplementary classes at the Franklin Academy of Magical Sciences in Washington, DC. I was turning fourteen and would be taking classes equivalent to that of seventh year and beyond at a school like Hogwarts. I specialised in potions, arithmancy, and runes and was working towards my mastery in all three. It was the summer of my fourteenth birthday when my past finally caught up with me.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Hello again. Here is the next chapter.

Chapter One: Invitation

"Fine, fine. I shall do as you wish and take a week off to, ahem, _BE_ _A_ _KID._ Happy?" I grumbled through the phone.

"Good, Angelyn. You need it." my superior at the forensics lab said on the other line.

"Yeah yeah. Bye." I said sharply, slamming the phone back on its carriage.

"Well," I mused, "At least I'll be able to continue with some of my experiments now." Of course, I always have to jinx myself, not that I care.

It was later that morning, just as I was brewing a fresh pot of coffee and pouring over some arithmantic equations, that the bell of my flat rang.

"Joy, an opportunity to _SOCIALISE."_ I grumbled. I leisurely sipped at my coffee, eventually draining it. After that, I took my sweet time straightening out my clothes and hair as well as my glasses. I wasn't expecting any company so why the hell should I bother being polite by answering the door? Slowly, I went into the kitchen and rinsed my cup. At last, I meandered to the door and threw it open.

"Do you do top or bottom?" was the first thing that I said as I opened the door.

"Pardon me?" the weirdo on my threshold asked me. He was wearing an ugly dress-thing that looked like the epitome of the technicolour yawn.

"You're one of those rainbow rights blokes, right? Sorry to disappoint you but there's nobody of that persuasion in this apartment. However, if you're looking to be topsies, I'm sure Johnny McCleine, he's two down from me, wouldn't mind. Then again, if it's a dom you're looking for, than you'll want Bubbah Sullivan on the third floor." I said with an expressionless look on my face.

"What... I... what is this rainbow rights?" he stammered. "Topsies? Dom?"

"Well you _ARE_ gay, aren't you? I mean why else would you cross-dress in rainbow colours?" I asked bluntly.

"Well... I... erm..." the old man trailed off, a stupefied look on his face.

"Relax, Headmaster Dumbledore, I was just fucking with you." I allowed a small smirk to grace my face.

"How _DARE_ you show such _BLATANT_ disrespect? Headmaster Dumbledore is one of the greatest wizards in the world!" came an angry, prudish voice. For the first time, I noticed a woman with a tight bun on top of her head. Her glasses were plain and square and her dress was ultra-conservative and light green.

"Did I make you blush? I understand. You're a prude, aren't you? It's okay, hun, I'm sure _SOMEONE_ will want to take your virginity before you're eighty." I said, totally expressionless.

"Why... how... never..." the old woman stammered.

"Shall you continue to be a brat or shall you let us in, you impertinent girl?" a third voice, a silky baritone, demanded. My eyes strayed to the man who had spoken. His skin was sallow, his nose was hooked, his dress-thing was black, his eyes were black, and his hair was a mass of lank, greasy blackness.

"I was never stopping you." I stated, politely moving aside so that the three could enter. I snapped the door closed behind me.

"You know, mister, I could probably brew up an anti-grease solution for that hair of yours. And maybe some tanning cream for that skin; it's hideous." I commented conversationally. The man's face began to grow red but the old man, Dumbledore, sat himself right in my favourite goddamn chair and decided to start talking.

"Now now, I don't believe this is the time to talk about Severus's hygiene. We are here for an entirely different reason." he said kindly.

"Sure," I muttered, "Just sit down and make yourself at home in my favourite effing chair." Before the other two could do anything, I flopped on my couch and brought my legs up on it.

"Sooo, what the hel do you want?" I asked after a slight pause.

"You have been very hard to find, Angelyn Potter. We have been attempting to get you your Hogwarts letter for three years now." Dumbledore said.

"Your point?" I demanded.

"Miss Potter, we would like you to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We understand that you might be a little behind in some..." I cut off the prissy-looking woman at once.

"Bah, don't patronise me, cat-woman. I rather think I couldn't learn anything at that place. I'll be finishing up classes at the Franklin Academy of Magical Sciences come next spring, including three masteries." I said shortly.

"Ah, I see. But surely there are things that we could teach you? Hogwarts is your destiny, your birthright." the old man rambled on.

"Bull shit. I'll attend where I like and do what I like. I see no reason why I shouldn't kick you out of my flat right now." I said coldly.

"Surely you're not living here alone?" the shrilly old woman demanded me.

"Of course I am. I have been since I got my PHD's two years ago. Where else would I be?" I asked what I thought was a rhetorical question.

"What about your relatives, Angelyn? Surely you should be with them?" the old man asked congenially. I was up on my feet with a dagger on his throat so fast it would make one's head spin.

"Never," I said in a chilling voice, drawing a line of pearly red blood from his throat, "talk about _THEM_ _AGAIN._ My name might suggest someone of angelic disposition but I _CERTAINLY_ am not. Those _DISGUSTING_ excuses that _DARE_ call themselves products of strictly human procreation are _NEVER_ to be spoken of in _MY_ _HOME."_ Before any of them could do anything, I was back on the couch with my dagger stowed away as though nothing had happened.

"Why not, Potter? Were they not _GOOD_ enough for you? Did they not _SPOIL_ you enough?" the man in black snarled through his gnarly, yellowing teeth. Up on my feet again, my right fist swung and scored a direct hit on his hooked nose. The satisfying branch-like crack of bones breaking brought a sadistic smile to my face.

"I couldn't feel that, you know." I said conversationally, sitting back down on the couch.

"Miss Potter! What is _WRONG_ with you?" the snooty woman demanded of me.

"What do you mean, you didn't feel that, dear girl?" old-man long-beard deigned to ask me.

"Oh, looks like I broke some fingers again." I shrugged, flexing my hand experimentally and grinning as some of the fingers bent themselves completely backwards. Sighing somewhat sadly, I focused my magic into the bones and they snapped right back into place.

"You _BRAT!_ I _DEMAND_ you heal my nose." the black-eyed man snarled, his syllables somewhat mispronounced due to his nose.

"Heal it yourself, greasy. You fucking deserved it. Anyway, just consider it a rhinoplasty, free of charge. It can't look any worse. So it hurt, didn't it? You lot feel pain, don't you? Well, I can't. Haven't been able to since I was three, actually. When I was seven, I broke my foot at school. They finally realised that there was something "wrong" with me so after a few months in hospital it was off to the orphanage I went. Then, a year later, I was shipped off to America to attend an accelerated college program for gifted youth. Six years later, here I am. Is that all you'd like to know or would you like a blow-by-blow account? If that is the case than I shan't comply." The old man and woman's faces showed open horror. The greaseball, on the other hand, was concentrated on his broken sniffer.

"No idea... I should never have..." the old man trailed off, looking very sad.

"Oh, so _YOU'RE_ the bastard that dropped me on their doorstep. I figured so but I was asleep so I can't remember how I got to that _HELL._ Don't worry, I understand. It's basic utilitarianism, really. You had to do the greatest good for the greatest amount of people, right? What's the suffering of one little girl? What is one little lamb's sacrifice? It was all for the _GREATER_ _GOOD,_ wasn't it?" I said in a measured voice. Albus Dumbledore's head was lowered in shame and he looked like he was about to cry. Wow... I made him cry... new record... nice. I might feel a tiny bit bad, as much as I can feel bad at any rate, if the old man hadn't decided to play God with my life.

"Dear girl... I..." but I cut him off.

"Cease and desist such informal endearments lest you start sounding like a pedophile. Just come out and say what you're trying to say already." I told him shortly.

"Please... I... let me make it up to you... please... won't you come to Hogwarts? You can learn much there and will be able to broaden your horizons." he said, gaining back some of his ability to speak properly the more he talked.

"You're like a used car salesman, aren't you? You pitch and pitch and pitch and won't stop pitching no matter what. I will not lie; I _AM_ a bit curious about what kind of a cesspool my parents attended for lack of knowing any better." I said dryly.

"Don't _DARE_ say such a thing, Miss Potter. Hogwarts is one of the premier magical schools in the _WORLD!"_ old-lady kittens snapped, nostrils flaring comically.

"And I highly doubt your Yankee little school is so _PERFECT."_ the vampire wanna-be said coldly.

"Of _COURSE_ it's not. The place was founded by a kinky man-whore. Did you know that Ben Franklin was still shagging by the time he reached his mid..." but I was cut off.

"We do not need to know that, Miss Potter." the prude said stiffly.

"Right, prude, forgot. And just by calling Hogwarts a cesspool, I wasn't saying I wouldn't go." I informed them.

"Really?" twinkley-eyes asked hopefully.

"Nah, I was just fucking with you." I said with a small smirk appearing on my face.

"Were you now?" the cat-lady asked me.

"_NOPE!_ Okay, fine, whatever. I'll go to your diseased school." I sighed.

"Thank you for agreeing, Miss Potter. You shall be a valued student at our school." said Dumbledore. Even though I had been talking to him for upwards an hour, I still thought that he looked like a long-bearded weirdo whose dress, I had to remember that those backwards British wizards called them "robes," looked like a very gay, (not to mention drunk,) Barney had thrown up all over it.

"Yeah yeah. There's just some stuff you gotta know about me, _HEADMASTER._ I'm a masochistic, sadistic, self-serving, amoral bitch and you'll all do well to remember that. Oh, and I'm also a borderline sociopath on a good day." I said with a bored yawn. The fossil and his cohorts looked perturbed, joy.

"Oh... well... thank you for telling me." he said awkwardly.

"Sure. Now get the fuck out my flat. Your business is done here." I said, waving my right arm airily. The three of them disappeared with a loud crack, my wards having forcefully ejected them. I laughed, knowing that I could have done that in the very beginning had I wanted too. Oooh, this was going to be _SUCH_ _Fun!_ Hogwarts, you better be ready for me 'cause Angelyn Lily Potter is _COMING_ _SOON!_


End file.
